


Bottom of the Glass

by KrysMcScience



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alcoholism, Awkwardness, Because at this point it's both convenient and hilarious, But they still get left out, Canon-typical violence (nothing overly graphic), Drunk virgins, Dubious Consent, Extensive roundabout justifications, Freeza does not understand relationships, M/M, Manipulation, Mentioned planet purging, Mind Games, One-sided crush - kind of?, Physical Abuse, Radditz and Nappa are actually mentioned by name in this one, Scheming, Vegeta pretends he does, Verbal Harassment, drunken rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 01:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13916562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrysMcScience/pseuds/KrysMcScience
Summary: Everyone knew not to mess with Freeza at the best of times, just as everyone should have known not to mess with him when too much wine was at the helm. Unfortunately, with ambitions and power at stake, even if Vegeta had gotten that memo, he still would have chosen to ignore it.





	Bottom of the Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, trying to add a new twist to an old trope. There's been fics of Freeza taking advantage of Vegeta, or Vegeta offering himself up to Freeza for perks, but I thought...nah! That's too easy. I'ma mix it all up and make things hard for myself.
> 
> In the end, I hate it, but maybe you won't. After all, to be fair, I hate most of what I write.

In the end, it’s the alcohol that lets Vegeta get away with everything. It’s never a surprise, seeing his lord with a drink in hand and a bottle just within reach, something so normal that it doesn’t even need questioning. And up until he realizes it as a weakness, something to be exploited, neither glass nor bottle ever really occur to Vegeta as details worth his notice.

Because Freeza drinks a _lot_.

Usually the tyrant keeps it reasonable, the average day of planet trade work sealed with a delicate glass flute half-full of wine, rare and expensive and (naturally) acquired at no cost to the empire. It’s just a part of his daily ritual, a way to relax and unwind, a necessity even for the diabolically psychopathic. Freeza has told Vegeta on a number of occasions that, although he rarely deigns to accompany his forces on missions, his position as both CEO and emperor is still remarkably difficult.

Those particular occasions always come with the glass topped off at the beginning of the day, rather than at the end of it, the lizard’s nerves frayed for one reason or another. Sometimes it’s inspections, the higher officers looking into crew activity to weed out those who might turn traitor, or those who are getting more from their missions than they ought to. Other times it’s when Vegeta is standing before him, battle-worn and grudgingly reporting in, successful in his mission, yet with objectives almost never completed in the way Freeza wants. (Apparently his methods are too messy for the bastard’s tastes. ‘Work on that,’ he’s been told, but is he going to? Of course not.) Those days always end with the half-serving of the drink, as well, but that’s so routine no one bothers to say anything.

Not that anyone ever would to begin with, for fear of what Freeza might do to them. Stories have been told – whispered at equipment lockers or over tables in the commissary, all throughout the whole of the planet trade – about the kinds of things the lizard has done to those who dared question his personal habits. None of the stories have a happy ending.

The real messes start when Vegeta’s lord goes beyond the usual stress, though, when his reaching for the bottle looks like more of a compulsion than something done for the simple joy of it. Rebellions and uprisings, diplomatic functions, failed missions that end in losing the stronger and more valuable fighters... There isn’t much that can fuel Freeza to pour that third drink, but once it’s out of the bottle and into his glass, the tyrant drops all pretenses of caring about appearances. At that point, all he wants to do is drown out his problems with the unhealthy buzz of alcohol, and all his subordinates can do is hope they don’t get on his bad side.

Because once he’s tipsy, Freeza can get _remarkably_ nasty.

Vegeta has been on the recieving end of his employer’s temper more times than he cares to acknowledge. Three drinks in, and Freeza starts losing the ability to hold his tongue, social filters not quite capable of holding up against his boundless irritation with the equally boundless incompetence of his followers. Not that Vegeta is incompetent by any means, but he’s Saiyan, and Freeza has never been fond of Saiyans. He likes to make that point remarkably clear at such times, where at other times he’d be rather more subtle about his disdain, and all Vegeta can do is stand there and let it happen.

He doesn’t really care what Freeza thinks about him and his race. If anything, the worst part is that he has to listen in the first place, because if he turns and walks out, the bastard will _follow him_. The last thing Vegeta wants is to have Freeza snapping at him when he’s trying to make the best of his free time. He’s already had to deal with it once before, and it was an ordeal he would have gladly traded for just about anything else. Even having his tail broken had been a far more pleasant experience.

Still, despite the tyrant’s propensity for cruel remarks the further into intoxication he settles, Freeza is still more or less in control of himself, showing restraint in everything beyond the liquor filling his glass. And such is always the case...

...Until he has to deal with family.

Freeza _hates_ his family. He pretends not to, but no matter how hard he fakes otherwise, his hatred for them is still far too painstakingly obvious for his act to be anywhere _near_ convincing. Vegeta knows this, as does anyone who works closely enough with the lizard, and it is widely understood that if either King Kold or Cooler drop by, the lot of them must be given a _very_ wide berth. More importantly, after the reunion is over, it’s recommended to stay as far from Freeza as can feasibly be managed. Because when Freeza has to deal with his family, he doesn’t simply drink.

He gets _drunk_.

And when he gets drunk, people get _hurt_.

Vegeta learns this the hard way, returning from an offworld errand he’d been sent on for his lord’s benefit, and not hearing of the elder brother's visit until it’s far too late, when he’s already standing before an irate Freeza and wondering if he’ll live to see tomorrow. But despite the blows to both person and ego, it’s a lesson that opens a surprising number of doors for him, something he only realizes the following day, well after he tended to the bruises and got the swelling down enough to open his eye again.

“How do you manage to get yourself banged up on a simple delivery trip?”

Freeza doesn’t even remember it. He's visibly surprised when Vegeta steps into his office, brows raising at the black-splotched-blue blossoming from nose to temple on the Saiyan’s face, and there's an amused sort of wonder in the subtle jibe he poses as a simple question. And when Vegeta stares back at him in abject confusion, citing a reminder – hesitant but irritable – that the tyrant had done it himself, Freeza actually looks _concerned_ for a moment.

He doesn’t normally worry about keeping up morale, loyalty, or anything, really, regarding his forces. Vegeta knows this, too, and knows it well. But as little as he cares for the opinions of others, Freeza still prefers to stay in the good graces of his stronger fighters, if nothing else. It’s easy enough for him to keep people in line and grudgingly respectful, but with his officers and favored warriors, infinitely more useful to him than the average soldier, he wants them loyal and pleased to serve him. He’s not likely to get what he wants, though, if he goes around treating them like they’re worthless and expendable – the way he treats the weaker grunts, if he even bothers to acknowledge them at all.

With that unspoken fact laid out plainly before them, Vegeta leaves Freeza’s office that day with three additional points to his galley card (a dinner apiece for his makeshift squad, or extra meals for the prince himself if he so chooses), and clearance to a better-ranked mission he’d been trying and failing to get approval on for weeks. Because in order to maintain some level of peace between the two of them, and to keep the abuse he’d dealt the Saiyan on the down-low, Freeza had resorted to bribery.

Vegeta is perfectly fine with it. He never even considered complaining about it to anyone to begin with, since it’s not like he’s never taken a hit to the face before. He’s more concerned with the realization that Freeza has unwittingly handed him a weapon, one that the tyrant won’t even be able to defend himself against.

Because he won’t remember a gods-damned thing if Vegeta uses it.

It takes a while before the prince gets up the nerve to try, though, unsure of how reliably faulty Freeza’s memory really is when he’s that drunk. Sometimes the lizard doesn’t even recall his nastier comments, not three glasses in and only tipsy, but there are other times when he can remember with perfect clarity what was said to him, and what he’d said in return, over the course of an entire conversation. Vegeta isn’t sure how to deal with it, thinks that he’ll only get anywhere if the tyrant’s family gets involved, but those opportunities only roll around every few weeks at the most, so he has to wonder if it’s even worth the effort.

Despite his misgivings, however, he also knows he can’t afford _not_ to take advantage. His squad is so badly limited – training equipment outdated, missions no longer challenging, and allotted meals nowhere near enough – that the only way he can get stronger, strong enough to put down Freeza for good, is to play by different rules.

Vegeta starts by opting out of purging missions, with the excuse that his men need to stop relying on him to get the job done. Zarbon complains about it, because it means the two of them have to deal with each other far more often than either would like, but Freeza approves of the decision; ordering the Saiyan prince on pithy errands has always been a source of endless amusement for him. It’s infuriating, and humiliating, but Vegeta tolerates it, because he needs to get a better grasp on the weapon he wields. He hopes it won’t turn out to be a decoy, worthless and harmless and an utter waste of his time, but more than that, he hopes that it doesn’t wind up exploding in his face.

For two months, he waits, glacially patient, not willing to let a single thing escape his notice. And in two months, he learns a few things. Number one being, he didn’t imagine the weakness he’d seen – his weapon is real. And even better, Freeza can’t remember things for _shit_ once he’s gotten good and drunk – which is a _lot_ more often than anyone realizes.

Turns out the lizard helps himself to the bottle the moment he turns in for the evening – every evening, without fail, the moment there’s no one around to know that he’s doing it.

It’s something Vegeta finds out completely by chance. He’d returned late and empty-handed from a pick-up, supplies locked in transit where they weren’t supposed to be, and his clearance level wasn't high enough to where he could sort the issue out himself. With his usual superiors either off on their own assignments (Zarbon), or so deeply asleep they might as well have been dead (Dodoria), he’d had no other choice but to go to the only other person who had the authority to deal with it.

Freeza had not been entirely accommodating. But then, he rarely is, and more rarely still when there’s more than a few shots of heavy liquor coursing through him. He hadn’t smelt of wine then, though; Vegeta was and still is certain of that. Whatever it is the tyrant imbibes in the privacy of his quarters is stronger, headier, with the kind of reek that veritably pours off of the most surly of bar patrons, and for a moment, whenever he recalls that scent, the prince wonders why Freeza needs such an escape...and why he needs it so badly.

Is the tyrant trying to forget something? Or is he just so unsatisfied and miserable, even with such a wildly successful life, that he has no other outlet to assuage him?

It’s almost pitiable. Almost, and would be, if Vegeta actually had it in him to care. Unfortunately for Freeza, he makes the prince far more unsatisfied and miserable than he could ever make himself out to be, no matter _how_ much he tries to drown out his shortcomings with alcohol.

And Vegeta can’t respect that.

He’d been told in no uncertain terms to fuck off that night, and when the morning came, Freeza had summoned him back to the office in a near fit, furious over valuable goods being left on the wayside. He didn’t believe what Vegeta had to say, that the prince had gone to him the prior evening, trying to explain the situation and come up with a solution. He couldn’t remember it in the slightest, so he’d spent an hour lecturing the Saiyan instead – an honest to goodness hour, full of bullshit epithets of how Vegeta needed to do better, to show proper work ethic for a change, and to maybe be less of an embarrassment to the rest of the organization for once in his life.

Not that the prince had given half a shit. Not when Freeza was essentially waving a neon sign over his head the entire time, a sign declaring that – after hour seventeen hundred, ship standard time – he was no longer in command of his own basic mental faculties. As for Vegeta, he was free to work out the fine print of that sign whenever he pleased. After all, neither of them were going anywhere anytime soon.

It takes him the rest of those two months to determine every bit of fine print, every rule and drawback Freeza’s weakness – his weapon – comes with. But once he has it all figured out, Vegeta takes on as many tasks as he can, keeps himself close to the tyrant, and steels his nerves. The safety clicks off of the weapon, and Vegeta tests it, sees what he can get away with.

Turns out he can get away with quite a lot.

Another black eye, shoulder dislocated, but Freeza is sheepish and repetant, offering more points to the galley card, and a permanent upgrade to Vegeta’s clearance level. Tougher opponents, trickier planets, and the prince is more than ready to take on the challenges. He doesn’t care what he has to force himself to suffer through at the hands of a drunken tyrant – all that matters is his growing strength, and the quality of his living arrangements.

Just a few weeks later, power level swelling, Vegeta finds the challenge to his missions once again faded and stale, and returns to kneel before his lord, already planning his next move. Much as before, he sends Radditz and Nappa away on their own assignments, not wanting to let them know how badly he’s debasing himself for the sake of his goal, for the sole purpose of tearing Freeza down just as the prince and his kind have always been. And he opts for more errands.

He’s careful in how he proceeds, though, because he knows how smart Freeza is. The lizard is already more on edge around him, watching him closely, wary – as he should be – of the only one who seems to be around for his less lucid moments. Vegeta even notices the change in how his lord speaks to him, words growing longer, sentences more complex, not like before, when he was spoken to like an overgrown child. He’s still spoken down to, but it’s abundantly clear now that Freeza has recognized some amount of cunning in the prince.

So, every now and then, Vegeta bullies the weaker soldiers into handing in his reports. He makes sure he sends them well into the evening hours, right at his own usual time in order to keep up appearances, because he knows Freeza hates how long it takes him to accomplish anything, and how late he always returns. It’s an endless delight now, knowing his employer will never be satisfied with how he gets a job done, because it ensures a miserable time for whoever gets tasked with delivering his results. With others on the recieving end of much the same abuse, it makes the injuries the prince has taken – and continues to take – from the tyrant look far less intentional on his part. Better yet, no one will question Freeza’s treatment of fodder, such inferior fighters not even worth bartering with, and Vegeta is not surprised in the least when his messengers more often than not wind up dead.

And, best of all, Freeza isn’t going to question his motives, either. Because he can hardly expect Vegeta to want to give his own reports, not when it ends for him the way it does, every time and without fail.

He isn’t going to stop, not when he and his men are able to eat as they should (as they _need_ to!), not when he’s been given a private cabin (with its own separate washroom, no less), and _certainly_ not when his strength is increasing enough to where he can actually fight toe-to-toe with some of the officers. He needs to raise his rank in the organization next, needs some way to convince Freeza that he’s worth it. If he can’t do that, then it doesn’t matter how many blows he takes for compensating bribes, not if he isn’t going to be trusted with the elite missions, the challenges that will – eventually, with enough time and effort – boost his abilities above and beyond those of his hated employer.

Vegeta’s skills and power on their own aren’t going to get him what he wants, though.

Because he’s still _Saiyan_.

With that in mind, and knowing what he’s been able to get away with so far, Vegeta switches tactics. He’s been too much of a doormat, he thinks, just handing in his reports after hours, and telling Freeza little more than what’s needed to irritate him into lashing out. He isn’t going to get anywere like this.

So he starts pushing Freeza’s buttons, too.

He knows what to aim for, where the tyrant is most susceptible, but Vegeta knows better than to be obvious about it. He knows even better of saying anything around his other superiors, so he doesn’t – his words are for Freeza alone. The subtle jibes do most of the work, hints in passing that Vegeta’s respect for his lord is waning, that it’s something he can’t even help in the face of regular abuse. It’s nothing the lizard can truly blame him for, and that just drives the barbs deeper.

After a week, with the prince purposely avoiding his employer’s quarters later in the evening, reports all handed in precisely how they shouldn't be (datapad scribbles, mostly, shoved into the middle of a too-full inbox), Vegeta can already say that he’s satisfied with the results. When he arrives – minutes too early, just to be annoying – to their scheduled meeting, a routine inspection and discussion of finances, he does so just in time to see the dictator pouring extra wine into his glass.

Freeza doesn’t say anything about it, but he doesn’t need to. Vegeta knows why he needs the liquid boost – the Saiyan prince exhausts him, almost to the level that his own family does, and he has no other way to prepare himself for their encounters.

Just the way Vegeta wants it.

The next time he steps foot in his boss’ quarters, too late at night, interrupting the tyrant’s sleep, he doesn’t let up. Freeza hasn’t had enough time to recover, liquor still very much at the helm, meaning there’s only one way it can end: badly, for _both_ of them. When Vegeta gives him more than just the frustration of a sloppily handled errand, the Saiyan mouthing off and finally putting spite to words right in his face, Freeza knocks him around hard enough to where he’s almost convinced that the bastard isn’t holding back. Then, when Vegeta doesn’t let the pain dissuade him, going on to shriek his many grievances aloud with the heftiest shove he can manage to wrap it all up, Freeza doesn’t just knock him around.

He knocks him down and _out_.

The prince wakes up in a bed – not a cot, but a real, actual _bed_ – softer than any he ever thought could exist, swathed in warm, rich blankets and topped off with plenty of thick, downy pillows. The only problem is that Vegeta can’t fully enjoy it. He doesn’t know where he is at first, disoriented from restless sleep, and there are far too many places on his body in pain than there should be. His forearm is no doubt fractured, if not outright broken, his abdomen is tight with burning ache, which suggests some internal damage, and his head is pounding where the lizard’s final blow had landed. Then, once he’s made a mental checklist of all his injuries, Vegeta realizes that he’s still in Freeza’s quarters.

More importantly, he has just woken up in Freeza’s _bed_.

He knows nothing inappropriate could have happened. Saiyan senses are more keen than most, and there’s no telltale scent to indicate that he might have been violated. All that the air carries is the stale smell of blood, coupled with the vague undercurrents of Freeza’s anger...and the prince’s fear. Still, Vegeta shudders and vacates the bed, unwilling to dwell on such unpleasant thoughts, only to find his unwitting abuser standing at the entryway, arms firmly crossed.

“Ah, you’re awake.” And Freeza’s stalling; he almost never states the obvious. The lizard glances over Vegeta, examining him, gaze lingering on the unhealthy blackened sheen of his forearm, before letting out a heavy sigh and gesturing toward the other door. “Use my medical tank, and get yourself cleaned up. You can use whatever you like. We’ll talk when you’re done.”

There’s no room for argument, Vegeta urged onward with a dismissive shooing motion, but he doesn’t try to argue, anyway. He’s too confused. He’s not exactly _worried_ , since his lord wouldn’t be so calm if he’d remembered anything about the prior night, but he can’t find any reason for Freeza to show him any hospitality, either. Normally the bastard just barters him into silence and tells him to leave.

The Saiyan tries not to think too hard about it, even after waking up on an immensely comfortable bed and spending an hour in top-of-the-line regenerative serum. He’s even _less_ inclined to think too hard about it when he’s being allowed a hot shower with high-quality soaps, and supplied with brand new battle armor. Before Vegeta leaves the washroom, he decides that – perhaps – this is simply a part of Freeza’s most recent bribe.

To his relief, once he’s been ushered out of his lord’s private chambers and back into his office, this does turn out to be the case, and it seems to be business as usual. After he’s been given what he wants, the prince expects to simply walk out the door, new ill-gotten gains and titles to his name. He’s ranked as a junior officer now, just below the PTO status of elite, which means his men are approved for a larger cabin right alongside his for convenience, with all three of them stationed just down the hall from the tyrant himself. That suits Vegeta perfectly, and the additional upgrades – furnishings, training equipment, and galley card (he no longer needs one; he and his men can eat whenever and however much they want!) - only serve to make his latest victory all the more sweet.

But Freeza isn’t finished with him, and Vegeta isn’t expecting what else his lord has in store for him.

“This isn’t going to happen again.”

The words and tone ring with finality, the dictator’s eyes narrowed as he lays down the new ground rules that his subject has to follow. No late night reports – _ever_. Vegeta must deliver his own reports – _no exceptions_. Any discussion must be kept quick, to the point, and professional – _or else_. Freeza’s gaze doesn’t move from Vegeta’s face the entire time, gauging his reactions, so all the prince can do is nod along in agreement, willpower the only thing keeping his disappointment in check. He's already exhausted his employer's legendary patience, and knows that if he slips up now, the only certainty will be a messy, unpleasant death.

Even so, once the lizard is satisfied and dismisses him, Vegeta is reassured by one simple fact, which is ensured by another fact, and in turn further ensured by another.

Freeza isn’t going to stop drinking. He _will_ slip up again. And Vegeta will be there when he does.

He’s not quite expecting the odd turn the whole mess takes the moment he leaves the office, however. Zarbon is just outside the door, about to request entrance when Vegeta steps out, and the other prince looks at him with such disbelief – even going so far as to stare at his back the entire time he’s walking down the hall – that it takes almost no time at all for him to understand why.

It’s too early in the morning, Freeza hates off-hour visits, and Vegeta just left the tyrant’s quarters not only freshly dressed, but still damp and sweet-smelling from his recent shower. Worse still, in everyone else’s eyes, it can only look as though Freeza has been favoring him. He'd even stationed Vegeta’s new cabin not a two-minute walk away from his own! It would be hard _not_ to misinterpret the situation – in fact, if Vegeta had been in Zarbon’s place, he’d have thought the exact same thing.

_‘Just **great**. Now Zarbon thinks Freeza and I are fucking each other!’_

It’s something he brings up to his employer the first chance he gets, requesting – when the tyrant is fully sober and lucid, no less – that they speak alone, citing his concern over the situation. And he is concerned, in fact. Zarbon has been dropping very clear hints as to how low he thinks the Saiyan is willing to stoop, and Vegeta doesn’t want _anyone_ thinking he has to resort to sexual favors to get what he wants. Even so, he keeps that very much to himself. Instead, once they're in his lord's office and seated on either side of the crescent workstation, he suggests that he’s more worried about what such a scandal might do to Freeza’s reputation. _Freeza’s_ reputation, not Vegeta’s, for the prince even claims that he doesn't care about what others think of _him_ , not when his lord – _obviously_ – is the only person who matters here.

What's most important to the prince, as far as he tells Freeza, is how such rumors could affect the professional relationship between the two of them.

At least that much of what Vegeta has to say is truth – that, and the fact that the situation isn’t technically the tyrant’s fault. He says it’s not his own fault, too, but whether or not Freeza knows it (which he doesn’t), the prince brought the whole thing upon himself, and with a more or less decent understanding of what he was getting into. Save for those key points, the rest of what he's forcing himself to say is pointless kowtowing – not to mention aggravating on a deeply personal level – but Vegeta knows it needs to be said.

He doesn’t want Freeza growing bitter towards him, not now, and especially not because of some stupid misunderstanding on Zarbon’s part. Such bitterness might lose him everything he’s gained thus far, so he pushes through it, and with as much feeling as he can muster for how he's rushing his words. Not that there’s any real reason to hurry, because, much to Vegeta’s surprise, Freeza spends the whole time just sitting there in silence, letting him speak without interruption.

Naturally, he takes full advantage of that fact, rather than dwelling on the odd convenience of it. It’s a pleasant relief, after all, not being pressed to argue his stance with the dictator, the way he would have been at any other time. He’s able to think clearly, put his thoughts to words without unnecessary stress, and honestly, he thinks he does a pretty good job in presenting his dilemma. Finally, once he feels he’s said all he needs to, Vegeta seals his veritable speech up with the polite request that his lord set Zarbon straight on the matter...

...and winds up completely stunned when Freeza admits that he has _no_ idea what the prince is talking about. Vegeta never expected to have to spell out what he means, not to his far-too-clever lord, but with the lizard apparently clueless, he does indeed have to admit the awful truth of it straight out.

“Zarbon thinks we’ve been intimate. ...Sexually.”

He sort of expects Freeza to flip his shit, perhaps shriek for an hour over how disgusting the very concept is before throwing the prince straight out of the office, all so he can knock back a shot or five all on his lonesome and seethe over it halfway into next week. But he doesn’t. Vegeta’s lord just stares at him, brows raised, for far too long for the Saiyan to be reasonably comfortable with, and then – even worse – the look on the tyrant’s face turns contemplative, gaze focused on nothing in particular as he thinks to himself. When Freeza finally deigns to speak, it’s started off with an awkward clearing of his throat, and accompanied by a light dusting of violet to his cheeks that tells volumes.

He’d just thought about it...

_And he isn’t repulsed by the idea._

“I’ll have a word with him.”

That’s all Freeza has to say. One simple sentence, the lizard’s face flushed throughout, and then Vegeta is dismissed to wonder what the hell just happened, and how he’s supposed to come to terms with his latest discovery.

_Freeza is not repulsed by the idea of sex with him._

On some level, as unsettled as he is by that revelation, he still wonders how such a thing could be _remotely_ possible, especially considering his heritage. Freeza _hates_ Saiyans – or at the very least, doesn’t care in the slightest for them. Even so, the oddity is easier for Vegeta to reason out than expected, simply because of the way he'd discussed the potential problem with his lord.

He hadn't just been professional, but had acted as though he actually _cared_ about Freeza's reputation – his well-being, too, essentially. He’d even claimed to care about it over his _own_. By any outside opinion, he'd just done something remarkably _nice_ for Freeza, simply for the sake of being nice. How many of those in the planet trade could say they'd done the same? Certainly none but Vegeta (although, he'd technically still be lying).

It only gets easier to rationalize from there when he considers the meaning behind it just a bit further. After all, when summing up the entirety of those under the tyrant's command, but taking out of the equation every person who hates him, every warrior who serves him only begrudgingly, and every last individual who would gladly rip him apart if their strength was up to the task...Freeza seems _remarkably_ alone. Even Vegeta has at least the undying loyalty of Radditz and Nappa to count on, but Freeza...?

Freeza is feared throughout the galaxy. Anyone he might deign to pursue for more than a passing night would only ever be completely terrified of him, and even those he might approach for such passing nights would no doubt be just as thoroughly frightened. It wouldn't even matter if he didn't _want_ them to be afraid, if he wanted the kind words of another to come not from cowardice at his presence, but out of fondness instead. Until Vegeta, out of the blue, had spoken to him with the facade of someone who cared about him – to some vague degree – as an actual person, such a thing would have been seen as laughable at best.

Because Freeza is a _monster_.

A monster who has _no one_.

But as much of a monster as Freeza is, he's never forced himself on anyone. Vegeta knows that much, at least, and knowing that, he can't help but wonder from there if the lizard has ever even entertained himself in such a way, with _anyone_. Vegeta can hardly imagine – doesn’t _want_ to, really – his boss engaging in that kind of activity, especially not when the man is so stubbornly set on locking himself away and alone in his chambers every night to get good and wasted.

Perhaps, though, the Saiyan is projecting his own views onto the tyrant. Vegeta has never had any interest in sex, any drive for it so wholly overshadowed by the focus on his martial prowess that it might as well be nonexistent, and that has never shown any signs of changing. He’s still not interested in sex. Still, despite that, he has to wonder whether or not there’s any profit to be had from his latest discovery. Because, again, Freeza is not repulsed by the idea of sex with him...

...and Vegeta has no other means of controlling him left at his disposal anymore.

He _needs_ that final promotion, though, to be elite in both Saiyan and Planet Trade status alike, or else all of his recent strife will be for nothing. He still doesn't have total clearance, can't go on whatever mission he chooses without the approval of various senior officers who despise him, and without that...

He'll never be strong enough.

Unfortunately, the prince doesn't quite know how to go about rectifying the matter, either, not when it involves what it does. He highly doubts that Freeza will be altogether openminded about such an overture, much less inclined to discuss it, if Vegeta dares to approach him while he's sober. And, equally unfortunate, he's been banned from bothering his employer during the times when the lizard is most assuredly _not_ sober.

There's other more pressing issues to keep in mind, of course. The first is that Vegeta isn't so sure he can stomach the idea of willingly flirting with his boss, much less going any farther than that. And actually _touching_ Freeza? The very thought of it makes him slightly queasy.

The second, and most important, is how it could affect his reputation. After the issue with Zarbon, Vegeta knows that if he achieves his goal – against all odds – and people find out why...he'll only ever be seen as a conniving slut.

So he tries to think of workarounds, ways he might find an acceptable compromise, excuses to worm his way out of any possible accusations. And after a few weeks, thinking and planning and carefully testing his theories, all the while keeping a sharp eye out for any predictable instances where Freeza might leave himself open and vulnerable, the prince figures some things out.

Subtle flirting isn't really all that difficult, he learns; most of it is in the body language, which Vegeta can just as easily pass off as being imagined if he's confronted about it. It isn't Freeza who says anything, of course, though Vegeta _has_ noticed his employer growing occasionally flustered around him at times. That effect sets in for reasons that _don’t_ have anything to do with how difficult the Saiyan can be, something he’s certain of, simply because he’s only been difficult around people who _aren’t_ Freeza as of late. It has conflicting results; as much as Vegeta can tell that he’s throwing his employer off in ways altogether new and surprising, the lizard no longer seems to feel pressed for more alcohol around him.

No, Freeza surely doesn’t see any reason to confront him about anything. Instead, it's Zarbon who steps forward, demanding to know what he's trying to pull the moment their lord is out of earshot. Vegeta just waves his superior off with a roll of his eyes, pointing out that the other prince has misinterpreted things before, and that alone gets him fully off the hook.

Naturally, while the act of flirting itself is surprisingly simple, the fact that he's doing it at all is less than pleasing. Either way, it tells Vegeta what he needs to know. While Freeza isn't about to bring up the matter himself, he's not going to dispute it, either, because on some level he's not actually opposed to the idea. Regardless of his disdain for Saiyans, the dictator still finds Vegeta pleasing in some way, for when he's had just a little too much to drink, sobriety nearly gone and social filter slipping, _he starts flirting back_.

Freeza's too-casual posture and sly wink leave Vegeta's stomach turning in disgust, proof that he doesn't have the fortitude to go through with it, but he decides that, really? It doesn't matter. Without even intending to, Freeza has gifted him with yet another idea to aid his progress, a tactic that has proved to the Saiyan its usefulness time and time again.

The moment he knows he has Freeza right where he needs him, Vegeta is going to get himself absolutely shit-faced _drunk_.

That moment, though, will be a while from now...but he can accept that. Because every time others of the lizard's clan get involved, Freeza drinks himself into a stupor, and he doesn't even bother to hide himself away first. It's not fully predictable, but Vegeta knows that if he pays enough attention, and is in the right place at the right time, he'll find his opening. He doesn't need to bother the tyrant at night anymore. He'll just wait for another family gathering, and ever-so-conveniently offer a sympathetic ear afterward, all for a too-drunk Freeza to pour out his woes to.

The only problem that remains, as far as Vegeta can see, is that if he succeeds, and if he's found out, he'll still be seen as a pathetic, scheming whore. In that event, he could say goodbye to his prior reputation as a proud and respectable warrior.

So he decides – if things get far enough – that he'll play dirty.

Once he has his lord in the palm of his hand, convinced that he wants the Saiyan, and that the Saiyan wants him in return...once the prince gets him to act on it, in some way or another, alone and drunk and far too vulnerable...

That's when he'll strike.

Vegeta knows where to hit, and how hard, to get Freeza angry. And if it looks like he's been forced, that his lord doesn't take kindly to words like 'no' and 'stop', there isn't anyone alive who can tell Vegeta that he sleeps around to get what he needs. Not without looking like scum, at least. After all, Freeza has been very clear on the matter himself.

Only the truly desperate and unprofessional will sink so low as to rape someone.

With a vague plan in mind, and consolations to soothe his pride – _this is for power_ – the prince spends the next few days keeping his eyes and ears open, both on and off the station, for anything else that could be of use to him. He learns his first opportunity may be after a week, Cooler considering having a friendly discussion with his younger brother regarding territory disputes between their two empires. It's not set in stone, though, so Vegeta doesn't take it at face value just yet.

He listens further, suffers through the occasional casual talk, and when the elder dictator is welcomed with the usual fanfare not four days later, the Saiyan is ready and waiting. He's already signed himself up as part of the security team, stationed in the very same celebratory block as the two lizards and their guests, and all the while he silently delights in Freeza's stiff smile, which is punctuated here and there only by fake laughter, insincere remarks, and more downed glasses of wine.

On the occasions where they happen to cross each other's paths, Vegeta keeps himself open to any and all conversation with Freeza, posture suggesting sympathy, support, and interest in what the man has to say. He only has the chance to speak with him in passing a handful of times, though, so Vegeta expects he won't be able to approach his lord until after the party ends. What he _doesn't_ expect is for Freeza to march right up to him before the other tyrant even leaves, seizing him by the upper arm and hauling him out, visibly seething.

But, as it turns out, that's exactly what happens.

Vegeta doesn't have long to worry that he's been found out, that all of his efforts have been flushed down the drain as waste. The moment Freeza has him alone, he shoves the prince down on the floor in front of his workstation, demands his attention, and immediately afterward begins to pace, complaining loudly and irritably about how his older brother is an absolutely insufferable _asshole_.

It takes everything Vegeta has to keep himself from laughing, simultaneously relieved and triumphant. Instead, he nods obligingly, agreeing with every word that comes out of Freeza's mouth, and soon enough he finds himself with the lizard sitting on the office floor next to him, leaning against him heavily and whining about how _unfair_ everything is. It's pathetic, and hilarious, and he doesn't give even a _bit_ of a shit, but with his lord sharing from a new and stronger bottle of liquor, Vegeta can pretend that he does. He slings an arm around his hated employer's shoulders, snickers at the man's colorful descriptions of the people he hates, and even gives his own honest thoughts of precisely where Cooler can crawl off and die.

Once Freeza has his fit of laughter under control, catching his breath and calming down, he sends this utterly foreign look Vegeta's way, awkwardly hopeful, a look that simply _screams_ of vulnerability. The dictator is close, would be far too close for comfort if it weren't for the liquid courage coursing through the Saiyan's veins, and he doesn’t show any intention of moving any time soon. But as comfortable as Freeza is with lounging on the floor with his subject, like there isn’t a massive gap in power between the two of them, that air of vulnerability doesn’t go away. His brows are still deeply furrowed, tail weaving in uncertainty, as if he’s suddenly found himself in a situation he’d never expected to wind up in before, and is now caught in a silent personal dilemma over what he should do about it.

Vegeta throws caution to the winds and kisses him.

And Freeza instantly kisses back.

' _Victory!_ ' the prince's mind roars drunkenly, and Vegeta honest-to-gods _giggles_ against his lord's mouth at the sheer exhilaration of it. What he's about to do will be completely humiliating, and will no doubt hurt beyond belief, but it doesn't matter.

Because he's about to have the strongest man in the universe at his every beck and call.

And soon he's going to be strong enough to _kill him_.

Vegeta isn't quite able to recall how it all progresses past that first kiss up to the point where he's slammed onto his back, bare ass sticking to the panels of Freeza's workstation. Most of it is an alcohol-hazed blur, from the initial chaste touches and brief hints of cold tongue in his mouth, to the increasingly desperate pawing under armor and full open-mouthed kisses. All he knows is that it ends with his favorite uniform in tatters on the floor, Freeza equally bare and perching hungrily over him.

It hasn't been horrible so far, especially not with the drunken buzz that has Vegeta riding high on every long, reverent caress over exposed skin, and each languid, teasing lick to whatever sensitive spots they can find. It's even been kind of fun, really, laughing together as they fumble through everything, the entire act new and confusing to the both of them, but still enjoyable enough to where neither care to imagine cutting it short. With how surprisingly attentive Freeza is, and how unexpectedly _good_ it all feels, every last shot of liquor shared between the two of them very nearly ruins the whole plan, because Vegeta almost forgets what he's there for.

He remembers the moment he feels the push at his opening.

The look of childish bafflement on Freeza's face is priceless when Vegeta kicks out at him, cursing viciously. When the Saiyan lashes out with fists next, a growl of warning sputtering in the back of his throat, the confusion very quickly turns to frustration. It's something that, under normal circumstances, would have greatly concerned the prince, but now, knowing that he's getting under the bastard's skin as he is, Vegeta is utterly delighted by the glare he's being given, and sneers right back in defiance.

He knows his first taunts, claims of how Vegeta never wanted _this_ , and how sick Freeza is for even _thinking_ it, will only serve to confuse and frustrate the tyrant further, and he takes the first blow – open-palmed and stinging, snapping his head to the side – with little more than a grunt. It takes far more of the Saiyan's effort to not burst out into laughter instead, to remember how much is at stake, and how much he has to focus on the task ahead of him.

Strength is everything, and he needs to get stronger.

_This is not a battle he can afford to lose._

By now, Vegeta knows exactly what reaction shoving his lord will get, so he does it with all his might, teeth bared and the fire of hatred in his eyes. Freeza responds in classic form, snarling and wresting him back down against the console, slamming him into it more than once in his anger. The lizard doesn't hold back much of his strength, but Vegeta hardly cares. Pain is nothing, not when he has Freeza pressing flush against him by instinct alone, still obviously unsatisfied despite the abrupt shift in mood. Vegeta lets it happen, squirming enough to where it _looks_ like he's fighting it, even shrieking for the bastard to stop and that he doesn't want any part of it, but every movement has him brushing up against his lord's heavy arousal, and he leaves himself completely vulnerable where it matters most.

Rationality drowned in hard liquor and furious lust, Freeza spits that he doesn't _care_ what Vegeta wants – not anymore. A heavy tail captures the prince's wrists then, coiling tight enough to where each one fractures instantly, before cold hands force his thighs up, exposing him far more than he'd ever dare to on his own. He tries to kick in protest, mortified, and has to bite down a howl when Freeza's nails dig into the softest part of him, bending to his body's cry for self-preservation by going completely still. He's unable to do much of anything else when the pure anguish has bile threatening to rise in his throat, eyes wide but seeing very little past the thin, glossy film cast over his vision.

Swallowing hard, and blinking away tears, Vegeta has barely even a moment to discern that the pain has ended before it rips through him anew, ice spearing and spreading him without mind for his comfort. The gratified moan that Freeza lets out over him goes unheard past the Saiyan's agonized wail, and the coppery scent of spilled blood overwhelms the musk of the tyrant's need as he pins his prey to the console.

It's worse than Vegeta could have possibly imagined. He's not even sure the countless mouthfuls of booze he's swallowed down are doing anything to help, or if they're only adding further to the ordeal. And when Freeza starts to move, every piston of his hips sharp and frantic and not holding back so much as an ounce of strength, the prince can't do anything to stifle his cries. There's nothing in what his drunken employer is doing that isn't excruciating, and all Vegeta can do is lie there and take it, screaming and sobbing as he's invaded, used by his lord without pause or restraint. Distantly, he prays that it will all be over quickly.

He's not that lucky.

The tyrant isn't satisfied with simply forcing Vegeta down for a single instance of relief, sudden and simple and finished in mere minutes. After the first time he spills his seed, Freeza doesn't move, kneels over the whimpering Saiyan with his eyes blown wide and full of awe, pulsing length still buried deep within his captive...right before he decides aloud that it won't be enough.

Vegeta's shrieking revolt at the words is quieted with brutal efficiency. The punishing blows leave the prince's head spinning, vision fogged with pain and the now constant presence of tears, and he's certain a rib or two must have snapped. His breathing doesn't come so easily now, turning to little more than pitiful gasps here and there, but it doesn't stop the sounds that are pulled from him once the second round begins.

The more time Freeza takes to sate himself, the more of a blur the intimate torment becomes, one moment difficult to distinguish from the next. Vegeta is shifted into new positions every so often, stretched and plied and splayed out to the lizard's liking, and after a while, he can't even muster up the energy to resist it anymore. Everything aches, but the less Vegeta struggles, and the more he just lies there and lets Freeza do as he pleases, the easier it gets to ignore how much it really hurts.

He only wishes he could ignore every last frigid release that coats his burning insides, and the long groan of delight that accompanies it each time without fail. Vegeta even takes what little breath he has to plead with Freeza, begging him not to finish inside, only to grimace and choke back a broken whimper when he's flooded yet again. Before long, he has thick strands of the cold seed dripping from him with every thrust of the tyrant's hips, trailing down his thighs to leave them sticky and shivering.

Vegeta is only dimly aware of the point at which Freeza carries him into the bedchamber, having surely grown bored of pinning the Saiyan against his workstation. The change means very little to the prince – certainly not enough to warrant much of his attention. It doesn't stop his employer from tossing his limp body onto the sheets and clambering up after him, nor does it ward away the icy hands pulling him in and propping his hips. It certainly doesn't spare him from feeling the too-wide, oddly ridged length sinking into him for the nth time in however long it's been.

All it means to Vegeta is a pillow under his head, something he bites into whenever Freeza shoves in too hard or too deep, and a less-than-comforting softness to be pressed into while he's used, again and again until his lord finally decides that he's had enough.

The ordeal lasts for over four hours.

When it all finally stops, Freeza going still for the last time with a breathless moan, Vegeta's body is bordering on numb from the abuse. He doesn't even have the energy to cringe when the tyrant slumps over him, sweat-slicked chest pressed firmly against his back to pin his limp tail between them. As Freeza murmurs contentedly, cold lips pressing thoughtless kisses to his shoulder, all Vegeta can manage is a weary sigh, tentatively relieved for a break in the constant turmoil.

The prince doesn't dare to hope that it's truly over just yet, not until he's turned onto his side with a comfortably dozing tyrant spooning him from behind. And even once Vegeta is sure that his harrowing trial has actually come to a close, he can't quite bring himself to feel victorious – or even vaguely successful – the way he had when Freeza had first kissed him. Back then, just a few short hours ago, he'd thought he had the bastard right where he wanted him, ready to be played and suckered the moment they were both awake and sober just as he'd intended...but he hadn't known what sort of tortures were awaiting him in the process.

After all he's been put through, and by his own design, no less...Vegeta doesn't feel like he's won anything. Now, he only feels small, and weak, and trapped by the reality he'd brought upon himself. His entire plan had played out perfectly thus far, just as he knew it would, but...

He'd lost something in the process. And he doesn't even know what it is.

Control? But he'd planned for that, had known the moment he resisted Freeza that he wouldn't have any say in what the tyrant did with his body... He'd _accepted_ it, even, as a necessary evil, something that would only aid him in growing stronger... Having expected and accepted it, even allowing it to happen by seeing his plan through, then surely Vegeta had still been in control...hadn’t he?

But if it wasn’t control he’d lost...then what was it?

Dignity? But he'd worked around that, too, made sure that he'd come out as faultless in the act, nothing more than a victim in the wrong place at the wrong time... No one would ever know – or even _consider_ – that he'd conspired for this outcome all along. And Freeza? The moment he wakes up, every last mark he'd left Vegeta with will be more than enough to spell out what must have happened. There isn't any way Freeza can blame the prince for this, much less believe he would ever instigate it himself... Vegeta is the only person who will ever know the truth, and since he’d done it for the sake of his own growing strength, then surely he doesn’t have any reason to question his choice, or see himself as lesser for following through on it...does he?

With his thoughts tangled as they are, and the numbness in his body wearing away to leave behind screaming aches in what is surely every last fiber of his being, the start to Vegeta's recovery is an ordeal in and of itself. He lies there in Freeza's loose embrace, each breath thin and shaking, feeling lost and vaguely sick, eyes heavy but unable to close in sleep. It takes what feels like forever before exhaustion settles in by force, and he slips into an unconsciousness where he finds no reprieve.

Only nightmares await him.

When Vegeta awakens later on, wide-eyed and gasping from the final dreaming misery his mind had chosen to plague him with, it's to a faded memory of wrenching agony in every limb...

And Freeza, sitting tense and with shoulders hunched, looking anywhere but at him.

The room smells overwhelmingly of sanitizing products, the fabrics spread over the bed freshly soft and carrying in their scents no hint of what had passed the night before. The rest of the furniture is clean and shining, like it's only just been stripped of its packaging, each piece delicately wrapped in the aroma of sterile newness. Just under all of that, though, barely detectable even to the sharp nose of a Saiyan, there's the subtle yet unmistakable ki-charged undercurrent of _ash_. As he sits up with only limited difficulty, feeling a slight film dried over his skin and catching another familiar odor, Vegeta doesn't have to ask what he'd missed.

Unable to bear the evidence of what he'd done, Freeza had put him in the regen tank, and proceeded to raze everything in his quarters to a charred and smoldering heap.

The silence between them is oppressive, heavy and thick with tension, but Vegeta isn't sure what he could possibly say. He's never been the one to start talking when faced with his employer lately, always figured it might be best if he just kept more or less quiet, but now it doesn't look like Freeza knows what to say, either. He may even be waiting for _Vegeta_ to talk first.

“Why did you sign up for the security team?”

The question has Vegeta twitching, startled and somehow unnerved. He'd been pinned to this very bed the night before, having to listen to that same exact voice right up against his ear – moaning in rapture, spitting out curses, purring to him how _good_ he felt inside... Shaking the thoughts away with a rough shake of his head, Vegeta settles on sending his lord a confused glance, but finds that he can't quite meet his eyes. He'd seen _those_ throughout the night, too...

Freeza isn't altogether pleased when all Vegeta can manage is a shrug, uncertain and hesitant, not sure of the need for the question. “You could have gone somewhere with your subordinates – someone, anyone. But you didn't. Why?”

The look on his face, rather than his tone, is what betrays Freeza's thoughts. He's keeping his voice level, almost gentle, suggesting he doesn't want to put Vegeta through any additional stress...but his brow is furrowed, mouth pressed into a thin line, and that suggests far more. Freeza is cautious, _suspicious_ , questioning the Saiyan's motives even now, and the thought of his whole plan falling apart now that he's already had to suffer for it should have Vegeta running on high alert.

Instead, it only has something in his chest wrenching painfully, and without warning, the corners of his eyes start to burn. He tries to ignore it, willing himself to focus only on how he can talk his way into getting what he's been after, but even as he says what needs to be said, there's already warm wetness trailing over his cheeks.

“You hate your family...I was just trying to _help_.”

The silence Vegeta gets in response to that isn't encouraging, and he curls in on himself, angrily scrubbing a forearm over his eyes as if it will stop his incessant crying. What is he even _crying_ for?! He grits his teeth when Freeza, low and awkward, mutters, “You never seemed to care before-”

“Well, I sure as fuck don’t care _now_!” Vegeta snarls, glaring up at the tyrant, tear-stained face and all. Freeza recoils outright, stunned, and the prince can't even enjoy it. He hates that he can't, but more than anything, he hates that it disarms him – if only a little – when his lord's shock quickly turns to concern.

Freeza is _concerned_ about him.

The universe might as well just end right now. As far as Vegeta can figure, it's all been going downhill ever since he was born, anyway.

“I'm...sorry,” Freeza manages, like the word is foreign to him, and after he says it, he breaks eye contact, staring down at his fidgeting hands. For whatever reason, any suspicion he'd harbored before is gone, but the downtrodden disappointment that replaces it isn't much better. “I truly am, Vegeta. I hadn't...intended on doing that to you.” Vegeta has no idea what to do with the apology. It's not like it fixes anything. He's not even sure if it _can_ be fixed, so he just sighs and looks away himself, shrugging and shaking his head.

“Whatever.”

And in the end, the suffering he'd gone through gets Vegeta exactly what he'd been aiming for, before something he still can't hope to understand had gone so terribly wrong. Freeza is as repentant as ever – far more so, even, to an almost worrying degree – ready and willing to offer just about anything Vegeta asks for, as if hoping it will smooth everything over, erase the events of the prior night and make it more like nothing had ever happened.

Perhaps he's even hoping that they'll go back to the subtle flirting from before, just so he won't have to feel like scum when he inevitably says something improper the next time he's tipsy.

It doesn't matter, though. Not to Vegeta. At any rate, he won't be humoring the apparent fondness Freeza has developed for him, or bothering to fake any interest or attraction of his own. He doesn't need to anymore. By the time he leaves Freeza's quarters not ten minutes later, he already has everything he needs, every last thing he's been after since the very first black eye he'd gotten from his ever-so-forgetful lush of a boss.

For all the time and effort he'd put into his plan, and all the troubles he'd endured to see it through to completion, Vegeta is an elite officer of the planet trade, with all the rights and freedoms afforded to one of his lofty station. He can take on any mission now, no matter how dangerous or challenging, whenever and wherever he wants, up to and even beyond the moment when his power has swelled to its utmost potential. And someday soon, with that power ready and waiting at his fingertips, he'll be strong enough to wipe Freeza from existence completely, just like he'd wanted to from the very beginning.

Yet somehow, despite everything...

In the end, it doesn't seem like all that time and effort was really worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is why alcohol is bad for you, guys. (But especially Freeza.)
> 
> Please drink responsibly.


End file.
